Tom Boy

   I was never a girly girl growing up, I'd rather have my shirt off, and a pair of shorts on in the summer, then a dress or skirt.  I think this was due to the fact that my dad grew up with 3 older sisters, and then he in turn had 3 daughters.  In a way I felt sorry for him.  I remember at the age of 7, sitting on his lap, asking him if he wanted a boy.  He truthfully explained that he would have enjoyed a boy, but was more then happy with the beautiful daughters he had.  Of course when you are a 7 year old, all you hear is  "I would have liked a boy",  I think secretly I made it my mission to be his "boy", and thus dawned the "tom boy" characteristics quite early in my childhood.  My mom was a very conventional women....if it could be sewn together, it would be, thus getting another year or two out of clothing that otherwise would be put in a rag drawer.  I remember the outfits we used to be subjected to.  Plaid on plaid, stripes and plaid, Dickies with sewn on knee pads, we were quite the lookers.  This played out for my tom boy persona.  I liked the rips, the tears, the non pinks and flowery patterns.  Dresses were scratchy and frilly and made me wiggle too much.  To this day, I feel uncomfortable in dresses.  My friends will tell me I look great all cleaned up, but I don't often feel great inside, I still feel wiggly, scratchy and uncomfortable.

   I loved the fact that in our younger years we were able to do what we wanted when it came to free play.  We lived in an area surrounded by woods, a river, and miles of undeveloped trails.  We had safe neighbors, at least we thought we did, we did not live in the day of Alerts, and "my neighbor is a child molester"  warnings. My mother and father believed in outside play, we were limited to maybe two television shows a week and Sat. morning cartoons.  This was great for our imagination, we would hike hills and climb trees, play under ostrich ferns, create islands, pirate ships, lands of mystery...but one of my favorites was cowboys and Indians.
  Our parents had leased 2 horses from a summer camp up the road.  Missy and Prince.  They were two of the best behaved horses/ponies I have ever experienced.  They worked in the summer for a camp that helped Mentally challenged kids, experience a summer of fun, so not only were they bullet proof, but they were dog and catlike, actually walking into the house when called.   We would spend hours in the woods riding bareback, listening to creeks and snaps in the forest, making believe there were Indians or in my case cowboys after us I had a soft spot for the underdog. It was magical.  I learned to listen and hear the sounds of the forest.  The birds warning calls, the silence before a rain, the wind brushing among the leaves.  I learned to feel the horse, I knew when it was anxious, tired, ready to jump.  I will always be grateful to my folks for letting us go free.

I have to reflect on one experience where it was not all that great, and the imagination of my childhood enveloped me, making me realize that there was consequence for actions that I took...I don't think I had realized that until then. I was off playing in the woods with my friend Tina, down our road.  She too had a horse, and we would ride together often.  I decided to go riding one afternoon farther then we had been in a while.  It must have been 4 or 5 hours of riding, and dusk was settling in when I unbridled Prince and put him in the barn...I had had a wonderful day, and skipped into the house as any other 10 year old would do.  I was met by my fathers hand, squarely on my butt.  I was small for my age, skinny and awkward, and my dad was 6'3" and quite muscular.  Needless to say I was not expecting this greeting at all.  I will always remember that feeling of pain and hurt, and worry in my parents and my eyes..  Back then I was hurt and couldn't see why there had been a problem, but after explaining that no one knew where I was and the calls that were made to find me were not productive, I realized that the freedom we take for granted, needs to be respected.
  I eventually experienced a similar feeling of despair with my own children.  Leaving them for a brief moment to do barn chores down the road, I explained that I would be home in 30 minutes and my phone was with me if they needed anything.  My children ages 7 and 4 at the time knew where I was and who to call if they had a problem.  I think I remember my days of  childhood and how it was not a problem to be alone for 30 minutes or so.  When I came home my children were missing, no note, no phone call. gone.  I panicked.  Searched in every space possible, the nausea that one feels is overwhelming, and you start thinking of all the bad things that could happen to them.  I was terrified and wanted to replay that morning back.  There  was a message on the phone at home from one of my friends down the road, she had my kids and was wondering where I was...I was re-leaved but also pissed.  I did not greet my kids with a slap to the butt, but mentally the fear was just as painful.  I regret filling their innocent minds with all the things that could have gone wrong, it was a moment where their childhood was interrupted with reality.

In the long run, I gave my kids too much freedom, and used my childhood for the basis for my kids.  I should have known better as I do now, and have to be thankful that nothing bad happened that day that I would not be able to live with. Innocence is a hard thing to let go of.